


Into the Fire

by AineDoyle



Series: Into the Fire [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AineDoyle/pseuds/AineDoyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One a night that is dark and full of terrors, a girl went into the smithy to meet the boy she knew from her past. Whatever the reason that brought her there, the girl found that this boy from her past changed, and changed for the better. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is part one of a series of one-shots written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Fire

She slipped into smithy late one night. The night was dark and full of terrors and she wanted so badly to forget about it all. Forget her needlework, forget this war, forget who she was for just one moment and be with this blacksmith with black hair and blue eyes. There he was: older, stronger than when she saw him last. He stared at the fire almost mesmerized by its beauty. 

“I saw your intentions in the flames,” said the boy she knew in the man before her. A smile spread across his face as he held the hilt of an unfinished sword. The metal looked as hot as her loins felt. She remembered the cloak that she was wearing and unpinned the silver direwolf brooch that concealed her nakedness. Both the cloak and her brother’s pin hit the floor with a thud as the man appraised the womanly figure she acquired in Braavos. 

“I half expected an acorn dress,” he said with his stubborn furrow. And with that he turned around to place his hot sword into a cool bucket of water. The steam that emerged covered his body and almost cleansing him. 

He walked over to her without saying a word. His face revealed nothing put painful pensiveness. Even though she was warm in the smithy, the fire must have been warmer. Gooseprickles revealed themselves on his bare chest as soon as he came to her. Soon he was close to her and she appraised the strong, manly body before her. He grew a foot taller since last time, towering over her in a dangerous manner. 

He is so much stronger than me she thought. He reached out and removed a rogue hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She hoped that he liked the longer hair, but his face gave no hint to what he was thinking. Frustrated she stepped back from him and attempted to put her cloak back on; embarrassed by how she acted. 

As she turned around he caught her by the wrist. In complete anger she attempted to hit him as she squirmed away. He was stronger than before, but she was quicker. She squirmed free but only for a moment before he took her by the arm, and pulled her close. As she twisted herself free again he lifted her body with one hand and held her head by her hair with the other. Soon they were face-to-face. She twisted and turned but could not get loose. Finally she had no choice but to yield. 

He smiled at her and kissed her. It was a soft close-mouth kiss on the lips at first. Then she opened her mouth inviting a second kiss. He kissed her over and over his tongue slid in her mouth beckoning her tongue to do the same. 

“Why didn’t you do that the first time,” she growled. She tried to hit him but her constrained arms only mustered a punch of a small mouse.   
“You wouldn’t have truly wanted it any other way,” he replied with a smirk as he kissed her again. This time he placed her down. That is true, she though, he always knew me as well as Jon. She bit her lip as if to erase any thoughts of her brother. What would Jon think of her now? Not tonight. It was dark outside and the smithy fire burned too brightly for such thoughts. 

Gendry knelt to get a better inspection of her womanly body. She cursed at not being as tall as Sansa would have been. He slid his hand from her hair down her neck towards her breasts. He thumbed her nipple and let it mound to a small point. His left hand met the other breast and he kneaded it like bread that Hot Pie would be baking at Harrenthal.   
Seven Hells, why and I thinking about Hot Pie and Harrnthal, she thought she closed her eyes but all she saw was the haunted castle that took Gendry and her captive a lifetime ago. 

“Look at me,” said Gendry. As she opened her eyes she saw his bright blue eyes on his stubborn scowl. Jon, Sansa, Hot Pie, Harrenthal, even the dark night disappeared. All there was in the world was him, her, and the Fire. She kissed him, and ran her hands through the thick black hair. He smelled of burning wood, iron, and sweat. He continued to message her breasts alternating between flicking and pinching her nipples so that she bordered on the edge of pleasure and pain. Her loins ached for more. 

He finally took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. A sharp pain on sensitive skin made her gasp instantly. He circled his tongue around and around the sensitive area while pinching the other with his rough, callous hands. The motion made her weak in the knees and she struggled against her will not to collapse on the floor. 

She did not have to struggle for long as he ran his hands down her back and guided her gently on the floor lying down. The submissive position would normally bring out aggression in the she-wolf but she let Gendry guide her. He look into her eyes as he slid two fingers lightly over her body from her breasts, to her stomach, and finally to her mound. By then her sweetness was begging for attention. He promptly obliged by slipping those two fingers through her lips and widening her inside. His long fingers toughed her inner spot as his thumb moved her outer spot. There he messaged her inside, than outside, then both at the same time. Never once did he break his gaze from her. She felt a buildup growing inside her, and the feeling grew more the faster Gendry’s strong hand went until finally a burst of pleasure she never knew inside her came forth. 

Instinctively she let out a scream and closed her eyes in ecstasy. When she opened was surprised to see her Baratheon blacksmith panting. She sat up and pushed him on his back. 

“My turn,” she said. She unlaced his breeches and pulled out a large pink cock. She wondered, if Gendry looked like the king so much, did he have the same cock. Was this like the cock that spread its strong seed creating sixteen bastards. She bit her lip to try and forget the mission. Not tonight, she was not going to let the Imp’s mission distract her.   
“Look at me,” Gendry said. When she did, all she saw was his eyes. All that was left in the world was him, her, and the Fire. She mounted him like she would mount Craven. She was no longer a She-wolf. No matter how hard a she-wolf tried, she could never mount a male. Now, She became an alpha wolf, mounting a mate. 

Gendry helped slide his cock inside her. It was tight and it took a force to break her maidenhood. The sudden pain took her by surprised. How can his fingers felt so good when his cock hurts? The pain made She forget herself, she was scared now. This was real. She was no longer a maid, how can she marry now? Didn’t she not want to get married? She was now the little high-born girl bringing shame to her house and father. She bit her lip at the thought of her father’s face if he were to catch them. It was impossible since he is dead and Winterfell is gone.

Gendry was different. He knew that she was scared; he knew what this meant for a high-born girl. He smiled at her and slid his hands to her breasts again. By now the sensitivity has subsided but they instantly went hard with his touch. He swirled his thumb around her small breasts making her shudder. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her towards him for a kiss. His tongue parted her lips and she tasted his mouth. His lips were soft as he kissed her lips, nipped her ear and nuzzled her neck. 

She sat back up, now the pain has numbed a little and she placed Gendry’s hands on her hips as they rocked back and forth. She started slow, just as she was taught in Lys. The motion was not too bad. He was so big that she could feel him touch her inside sweetness no matter what motion she rocked. She moved faster and faster the sweetness was being hit over and over. The buildup was coming. She felt as though they were as one, that she was no longer in her head. Faster and faster she moved. She leaned forward and her outer sweetness was touching his stem. The faster she moved the harder his stem rubbed her outer sweetness. She pumped and pumped and was about to burst.   
Suddenly Gendry flew forward and she was on her back as Gendry slid out of her and released on her stomach. 

“I can’t,” he explained, “it is not right.” She could only nod. She knew what that meant. A bastard’s life is never easy; they, of all people, never want to let someone else grow up with that life. 

“Were you finished,” he asked her. She shook her head. He slid his fingers again inside her and rubbed her outer and inner sweetness. The pleasure was instantaneous. It was longer than before. She screamed, gasped, and moaned. He covered her mouth the muffle the sounds but kept his fingers releasing her pleasure. Her legs twitched and trembled with his motions. An explosion of warmth, pain, and tickle grew from her loins, towards her nipples, all the way to her head. She felt it in every inch of her skin. 

Finally she was done. It subsided and she was sweating, panting, and trembling. As her heart calmed down from the ordeal, she looked at Gendry. He smiled at her, satisfied with his accomplishment. However, there was something more. A look in his eye that was nothing she never saw before, it was like relaxation, or even relief. 

“I thought you were dead Arya,” he said quietly. He looked like he was hurt at the thought of it. It was the same painful look that she saw on the way to the Wall. He wore it every time he polished that bull helm. How many people did he lose in his life, she thought.   
“Arya,” he started, “I’m so sorry about the last time we… I..”  
“Hush,” she cooed, “Arya is dead, but we are together.” Blame is such a funny thing. Most of the time people think it is one sided. Wrong and right. Black and white. Ice and fire. All too often blame is shared, just like ice can burn as strongly as the fire in the smithy. 

They embraced for a hug. He smelled strongly of sweat now. She let tears that she tried to subdue for so long flow freely from her eyes. The notion made him hug her tighter. The first time in a long time she was allowed to feel safe. Someone was protecting her for a change. Suddenly the mission came to mind. The Imp wanted the sellswords to find all King Robert’s bastards. Well, she found Gendry, and he was safe and warm in the light of the fire, not outside in the night that was dark and full of terrors.


End file.
